


Lyra Black

by thefirecrest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: $$$, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Wizarding Culture, Business, Chinese Wizarding Culture, Different Types Of Magic, Driving snape insane, Economics, Halfblood Culture, Hawai'i, Hawaii, Hawaiian Wizarding Culture, Ilvermorny, Imma teach ya'll a bit about economics, Indian Wizarding Culture, Japanese Wizarding Culture, KAMEHAMEHA, Kamehameha School, Making Friends, Mana - Freeform, Misunderstanding, Money Money Money, Muggleborn Culture, Muggleborn OC, Multi, OC literally just wants to make cash, Original Character(s), Pureblood Culture, Quadpot, Serious world building, Wandless Magic, Wands, annoying Snape, behind the scenes of the wizarding world, but also makes friends along the way, but i promise itll be interesting, exploration of magical theory, fair warning, funding the rebels in the war against Voldemort, intergrating muggle and wizarding worlds, like mostly world building, oc-insert, other mediums of channeling magic, other than wands, telling you here and now, we don't stick with the main plot for long, world building, yup that's end game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefirecrest/pseuds/thefirecrest
Summary: After a car crash a business woman is reborn as Lyra Black. Leading a normal and unassuming new life in London with a normal and unassuming new family Lyra had nothing to make her second guess her new existence. That is, until a letter arrives on her eleventh birthday."No. For the last time I am NOT of the most ancient and noble house of Black! It just happens to be a very common muggle surname!"An exploration and celebration of halfblood and muggleborn culture.





	Lyra Black

When Lyra opened the front door that morning, she had not expected to open it to the face of a beloved and deceased celebrity.

That is, of course, exactly what happened when there was a knock on their front door and her mother, busy in the kitchen, asked her to get it. Lyra didn’t mind, she was a mild mannered child afterall, mature beyond her years. And even though she was tired from a late night of reading her textbooks for the upcoming school term Lyra happily obeyed her mother’s request and went to see who it was.

It was probably the mailman, she had originally thought, conveniently forgetting that it was Sunday and no one would be delivering anything aside from pastors delivering sermons. A check through the vision-warping peephole wasn’t much help in identifying the person, although Lyra was a little putoff by the sea of black their strange visitor seemed to be sporting. Extra cautiously, she cracked open the front door only to be met with a shocking sight.

Alan Rickman, fully decked out in robes of black, stared back at her from her front steps with unimpressed eyes. Lyra sensed that whatever quick decision he had come to about her character in that moment wasn’t a particularly high one. It probably didn’t help that she was sort of gawking wordlessly at the supposedly dead actor.

Or wait. Lyra supposed that he wouldn’t be dead in 1991, that event wouldn’t happen for another two and a half decades. That didn’t answer the question of why the A-list actor would be standing at the doorway of her flat though. Or why he was dressed so strange.

Lyra was then reminded of his future role as Severus Snape in the Harry Potter franchise. But that wouldn’t be happening for another few years. Perhaps Rickman was a Potterbuff before his acceptance of the iconic potions professor role? Though cosplaying and visiting random flats was a little eccentric even for a celebrity, not that Lyra had much knowledge of the actor’s personality to judge by.

Whatever it was, Alan Rickman had adopted a slight sneer and a look of annoyance as the seconds ticked by. Lyra sensed that the actor’s patience was running thin.

“You are Lyra Black?” The actor drawled in a nasally tone and she wordlessly nodded in reply. “And I will assume your parents are home at this time?” Lyra nodded again.

“Lyra, who’s at the door honey?”

Her eyes didn’t leave his dark black ones as she called back into the house, “It’s Alan Rickman Mom!” Said actor rose a questioning brow at that.

“Who?” Came her mother’s blasphemous reply.

Lyra’s mouth pulled tight as she furrowed her brow, “Alan Rickman?” She twisted her upper body to glare back into the house, “How do you not know who Alan Rickman is Mom?”  _ And this woman calls herself an American,  _ Lyra snorted in privacy of her head,  _ has she not seen Die Hard? _

Alan Rickman cleared his throat pointedly drawing her attention back to him. She flashed him a sheepish smile, “Ah. Sorry Mr. Rickman, my mother’s not the most… Cultured woman.” _An understatement, she doesn’t even know what Harry Potter is,_ Lyra thought thinking back to one night she had brought up the topic. “Aaahh… Please come in sir.” _This_ ** _is_** _Alan Rickman after all, best not look a gift horse in the mouth as they say, who wouldn’t_ _invite him into their home, strange circumstances aside?_

Rickman had a bemused look on his face, gone was the irritation, instead there was only confusion as he appraised her. But nonetheless he did step into the entrance hall when she opened the door fully and stepped aside. Lyra gestured to the shoe rack, “you can put your shoes there.”

To her surprise the statement was met with a look of bafflement. She mentally slapped herself in the head, “Ah never mind. Sorry, I keep forgetting we’re in the UK now.” Lyra was a little confused though, she hadn’t thought the British all wore shoes indoors. At least some of them must take off footwear or be familiar with the practice, especially a well-traveled actor like Rickman. “Americans,” she explained to him with a shrug.

“I’ve noticed,” he drawled low probably having concluded that already from her accent.

“Honey, who’s at the door?” Her mother’s impatient voice sounded again as the woman walked out of the kitchen. She paused at the sight of her daughter inviting a foreign man in. “What’s going on?”

Lyra sighed, “Mom. Seriously. Rude.”  _ Honestly. Who treats beloved celebrities with such hostility? _

“My apologizes for barging into your home Mrs. Black,” Alan Rickman said briskly, not sounding very sorry at all. “My name is Severus Snape, and I’ve come on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry regarding our acceptance letter sent two weeks ago that went unreplied to.”

“See Mom,” Lyra said with a sigh. “I told you, Alan Rick-” She paused.

The words processed in her head.

“Yes,” Alan Rick-no  _ Snapeman  _ said with a tone of dark sarcasm- or perhaps it was just mocking. “I see you’ve finally realized that I am not this  _ Alan Rickman _ person.” He sneered. “My name is Severus Snape,  _ Professor  _ Snape to you Miss Black.”

Lyra finally found her voice through her disbelievement.

She croaked out.

“Wut.”

~*~

They had not finished unpacking yet.

So the three of them sat down awkwardly in the cream themed living room, surrounded by brown moving boxes. The coffee table had not been setup yet so Margaret Black had to make do with a small wooden fold up chair which she haphazardly arranged three tea cups on. Except no one touched the drinks and instead sat rather awkwardly in silence.

“Bob should be home any minute now Professor,” she explained for the fifth time in the last seven minutes. Alan Snapeman dipped his head in acknowledgement anyways, looking for all the world like he would rather be doing anything else but this.

Lyra just wanted to know what the fuck was going on.

Sitting innocently in her mother’s lap was a letter, a joke letter that Lyra thought had been some elaborate prank someone was playing on the new Americans in the neighborhood. Like  _ “haha we made you think Hogwarts was real”. _ But apparently it wasn’t a joke letter after all, unless this really was an elaborate prank that Alan Rickman was involved in for some reason. Where were the hidden cameras?

Of course, hidden cameras and parlor tricks would be hard pressed to explain how the hell Snapeman turned ( _ transfigured  _ her inner Potterhead squealed) their empty flower vase into a miniature elephant literally five minutes ago.

Lyra had been amused, and perhaps slightly concerned, when she first received a letter via an owl landing on their kitchen window sill.  _ Lyra Black. Telford. Lancaster Ave. House #2. Second floor. Second bedroom to the left. _ No one else but her had noticed and Lyra debated telling her parents about the creepily specific location, but decided not to. But since the letter had been pretty authentic looking and being a diehard Harry Potter fan herself, Lyra decided to keep it as a memento.

It was also the letter that sparked her conversation with her mother later that night about Harry Potter, in which she was horrified to find out that her mother had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

Well now she knew why.

Because apparently in this god forsaken reality not only was Alan Rickman not a person that existed (did Diehard exist???) but Harry Potter was also not a thing. At least, not as a book and movie series. (Lyra conveniently forgetting that even if J.K. Rowling were a real person in this universe, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone wouldn’t have be a printed book here in 1991).

There was a commotion by the front door, a jingle of keys and the telltale sound of the lock being jiggled around. A loud, “I’m home girls!” came from the hallway as the door swung open then shut again, cutting off the filtering sunlight. Bob Black came into view not a moment later, decked out in full military uniform and looking rather exhausted. He slung his heavy duffle to the ground and sighed, then looked up and froze.

“Oh hey,” he coughed standing up straighter. “I ah, didn’t know we had company.” His eyes wandered and caught sight of the miniature elephant that had once been a vase. It lifted it’s tiny trunk and trumpeted at him, tiny soulless eyes filled with fiery hatred. “Uh…” Bob’s eyes went wide.

“Honey,” Margaret spoke slowly. “This is Professor Severus Snape. From a school called Hogwarts. He’s come to tell us about Lyra’s acceptance.”

If possible, his eyes grew even wider and he gained what Lyra could only describe as an owlish look. “I thought… I thought Lyra was going to St. Felicity.”

St. Felicity being the all girls Catholic academy her parents had registered her for. Not that the Blacks were particularly religious folk -especially not Lyra after her own experiences with the afterlife- but it was rated one of the top schools in the country and happened to be close to Margaret’s choice of neighborhood. Lyra didn’t mind too much either, and hadn’t been too putoff by the idea of a Bible studies class. since it is hands down the most referenced piece of literature in existence. A must read regardless of religious affiliations.

“I’m going to be blunt with you Mr. Black,” Snapeman said suddenly. “Hogwarts is a school for  _ special _ children such as Lyra. It is a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lyra is a witch so it would behoove her to attend such an institution to hone her skills.”

Bob Black, being that simple man that he was, replied with only an, “oh.”

Alan Snapeman continued, “I understand that you may already have plans for your daughter. But leaving her magical powers unchecked and untrained can and will be a danger to her and the people around her.”

“So we have no choice? Are you telling me my daughter has to go to this Pigward? What would’ve happened if we had stayed in California?”

“It’s  _ Hogwarts  _ dear,” Margaret corrected her husband, and at Snapeman’s confused expression added, “California was the state our family lived in back in the US. My husband is asking if we had stayed in the States would our daughter be forced to come to England anyways?” 

“Certainly not,” Professor Snapeman spoke with a strained voice. “There are of course other institution to choose from. Had you stayed in the Americas there would be schools such as Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry or Salem’s Witches and Wiccans Academy. But Hogwarts is the only such institution in the British Isles.”

“I mean…” Bob trailed off. “There must be a mistake right? Our daughter couldn’t be a witch. I mean… We’re not witches.”

“You would be a  _ wizard, dear _ .”

“Wow. Really  _ sweetheart?  _ We’re going to be PC here?”

“I’m just saying _honeybunny._ Besides, the term for Lyra is a muggleborn since both of us are muggles.”

“What in the world is a Mubble?”

“ _ Muggles.” _

“Again with the PC? Mubble-Muffle, what’s the difference.”

“It’s  _ Muggles.  _ And that was an incorrect usage of the word PC.”

“OH. So now we’re being  _ PC  _ about the word  _ PC!” _

Snapeman’s face became strained and it looked like he was quickly losing his entire composure and patience with the situation. He caught Lyra’s eye and she simple shrugged to him from across the seating space as if to say  _ “this is normal. You get used to it.” _

He narrowed his dark eyes back at her.  _ “This is not something I want to get used to..” _

She, in turn, rose a brow at him.  _ “That sounds like a personal problem.” _

His brow furrowed in bemusement.  _ “Personal problem… I do not understand this slang.” _

She shrugged again.  _ “That’s okay. Because I’m probably just making up this entire conversation in my head anyways. And you’re probably thinking I’m as crazy as my parents.”  _ Lyra looked down and brushed off some invisible dust from her sweater. Snapeman looked slightly alarmed. Next to them, the argument raged on.

Margaret paused, becoming re-aware that they still had a guest in the house. Sitting right there in the middle of their living room no less. She sucked in a sharp breath and looked over at the Professor who was definitely looking irritated. The Black matriarch flashed him a sheepish smile.

“My apologies Professor,” she simpered. She noticed his untouched tea on the table, “Oh. You’re tea has probably gone cold. Should I pour you another cup?”

“That,” Alan Snapeman cut in hastily, standing. “Will not be necessary. I believe it is about time for me to go.”  _ Get me out of this loony hole, _ his face said _.  _ “When you have made up your mind,” this he addressed directly to Lyra. “Do send a return post with along with a date and time most…  _ convenient _ to you so that a Hogwarts representative can take you shopping for your school supplies and exchange currency at the bank. I will leave an owl for your use. ”

Lyra nodded slowly, “... Sure.”

Snapeman cleared his throat and adjusted his outer robes, “Then I shall be on my way. It was…” He fought to hold back a sneer, “A  _ pleasure  _ meeting you all. Mr. Black. Mrs. Black.” He nodded to Lyra, “Miss Black.”

“Oh please,” Bob said standing and holding out a hand. “Call me Bob.”

Snapeman eyed the appendage as if it were something particularly distasteful, “I think… That I shall refrain Mr. Black. Good day to you all.”

With that, he swept out of their house with a dramatic bellow of his black robes.

~*~

Lyra fiddled with the pen in her hand debating what message would be best to send in reply to Alan Rickman.

_ No,  _ she admonished,  _ it’s Professor Snape. Freaking Severus Snape. _

Lyra sighed.

Downstairs Margaret and Bob’s argument could be heard, a verbal sparring back and forth between the couple as they argued the pros and cons of sending her to Hogwarts. Lyra wasn’t particularly worried about the shouting though. Her parents had a happy relationship and strangely enough arguing was just how they communicated. It wasn’t an indication of a failing marriage, it’s just how they expressed their affection. If Lyra was being at all honest, she’d probably guess that arguing was how the two met.

She angrily threw her pen down and collapsed bonelessly into her seat.

“This is hopeless,” she groaned to no one. Lyra tilted her head and caught sight of the small tawny owl that Snapeman had left with her. It sat on her window sill, just patiently waiting for her letter. Actually, it looked quite annoyed to be honest, as if it’s patience were running out. Not that Lyra would know much about it.

She didn’t know diddly squat about owls in general, and certainly even less about  _ magical owls. _

Honestly, that sounded ridiculous even in her head.

Lyra puffed up with a quiet chuckle.

_ Magical owls. _

_ Utterly ridiculous. _

She and the owl caught each other’s eyes. It’s big dark brown ones bore into her soul with accusation. It blamed her for it’s late night.

“But you’re an owl,” she dryly explained to it. “You should be happy to be up this late.”

The owl did not respond. Lyra could’ve sworn it narrowed its eyes a bit though.

“Alright alright,” Lyra whined out. She met it’s gaze questioningly, “But what would  _ you  _ write? I’ve never written to a celebrity before so this is all new to me. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing really…” She paused. “Then again, it’s not as if Snapeman is actually Rickman so he’s technically not a celebrity.” She paused again. “Though technically Severus Snape _ is _ a huge celebrity back in my old world, even if he was just fiction back then. He was a fictional celebrity. A lot of people loved and hated him. Is that a qualification for being famous anyways? To be simultaneously loved and hated?”

The owl continued to stare at her unresponsive.

“No, I don’t suppose you would know would you. You’re not famous at all.” Lyra tisked, “Of course. If you were a bit bigger and had white feathers and were named Hedwig, I suppose you’d be a pretty famous owl. A famous magical owl. A  _ fictional _ famous magical owl.”

Lyra sighed again.

_ Utterly ridiculous. _

She was actually just waiting for the moment that she would wake up and all this would be a dream. That she’s not actually composing a letter to arrange a meeting with a famous deceased actor slash famous fictional wizard. Because all of this was just too far fetched. Her mind, despite all the impossibilities she has already been through, reincarnation and all, was still struggling to accept all that happened in the past few hours as reality. Somewhere in her mind, there was a very long line of realization cells waiting for their number to be called and are all just gathered up in her mental waiting room in a state of depressing limbo.

“This really shouldn’t be this hard,” Lyra said to herself. She picked the pen up again and  twisted it between her fingers.

The movement caught her attention.

She examined the difference between the lettering of her Hogwarts acceptance letter and her own short “ _ Professor Severus Snape”  _ of her reply mail.

“You know,” Lyra vocalized to the nameless owl. “If I remember correctly, all the wizards in Harry Potter use quills to write. I don’t have a quill obviously, and if my calligraphy class from back in college is of any indication it’s that I’ll likely be terrible at using one too.” She paused to think, “Also, why use quills anyways? Ball point pens seem much more convenient and you don’t have to continue dipping them in ink and try to avoid ink spills. Honestly that would be just be such a pain.”

Jeremy the owl, which Lyra just now named it in her heard, offered her no response and continued to stare at her with those large seemingly annoyed eyes.

“Rude,” she stated to Jeremy. “Just rude.”

Jeremy narrowed its eyes.

“Fine!” She moaned out throwing her head back in defeat. She looked down the bridge of her nose at Jeremy with reluctant acceptance, “I’ll finish the damn letter so you can leave.”

Jeremy hooted at her.

“Now now, there’s no need for such language,” Lyra sat up and tutted at the bird. “Just give me a moment.” She immediately set off to work, not really thinking of what she was writing and quickly getting the times and dates down on paper before semantics bogged her down again. She jotted down the short reply letter and ended it with a flourish of motion for her signature.

_ Professor Severus Snape, _

_ We have decided that I will attend Hogwarts. My family and I will be free to go to Diagon Alley this coming Saturday at 10 o’clock in the morning. Also we would like to know how much money we should bring and if your wizarding bank takes card. _

 

  * __Lyra Black__



 

It was short and simple. Lyra figured that Snape was the type of person that would appreciate not having to read a long drawn out letter.

“There.” She said and neatly folded the paper in half then placed it into a pre-prepared envelope (address and all), sealed it, and handed it to Jeremy. A thought popped into her head. “How do you even know where to go anyways?”

Jeremy didn’t grace her with an answer and instead, rather sassily, snatched the enclosed envelope from her hands with its talons and proceeded to fly out the window without another hoot. Lyra stared after the feathered creature with blank eyes.

“Well that was rude. No wonder everyone likes Hedwig better than you.”

~*~

Come Saturday morning at precisely nine fifty nine the Blacks were busy gathering their things for the day. While Bob and Margaret collected their belongings downstairs Lyra was still in her bedroom preparing her mind for the day.

After she had sent off the letter to Alan Snapeman and received a confirmation reply the next morning (Jeremy had flown in and out, not even pausing to hoot a hello to Lyra, something she felt rather resentful of), it had almost seemed like the events of those twenty four hours were nothing but figments of her imagination. It was something she had contemplated before, did she  _ really  _ remember her past life or was she just crazy? Just like meeting Severus Snape seemed a bit surreal to her mind.

Come a minute later at precisely ten o’clock the Blacks were distracted by three short raps in succession on their front door. Reality clicked into place then in Lyra’s mind and immediately she stood and made her way down to the first floor where her mother was just opening the door to a sea of black.

Severus Snape just sighed in his head as he prepared himself for what would definitely be a torturous day.

When the cab pulled up next to the curb, which left the wizard in dismay, he cursed the name of Minerva Mcgonagall in his mind for pushing this job onto him. Busy his arse.  _ He  _ wasn’t the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts after all and Severus mourned not instead spending his morning brewing those vials of pepper ups Poppy had requested from him.

The four of them stepped into the vehicle and immediately the cab driver gave the party a wide eyed stare (well, just one of them) as a tall looming man wearing nothing but black (was that a cape?) sat down awkwardly between a bickering couple. Lyra happily took the front seat and just enjoyed the aura of misery emitting from behind her.

By time they stopped in front of the Leaky Caldron Severus was practically leaping out of the cab.

Bob and Margaret had shared a look of bemusement and scepticism when the group stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. A look which was promptly wiped away when their famous actor tour guide opened the brick entrance to the wizarding shopping district.

“My lord!” Bob exclaimed. “Are those brooms? Do sorcerers really ride on broomsticks Mr. Snake?”

Mr. Snake’s eye twitched.

“ _ Wizards _ ,” Margaret corrected. Something caught her eye, “Goodness! There’s an actual apothecary here! Are those  _ eyeballs _ ?”

Alan Snapeman sighed deeply.

Lyra eyed the stores around her. She glanced up at Alan Snapeman, a multitude of questions burning on her tongue, but his expression suggested they wouldn’t be welcomed so she bit her tongue down and silently proceeded forwards. That of course, didn’t stop her less couth parents from rambling on a buzz like flies.

They passed by the Quality Quidditch Supply shop and Lyra’s inner child perked up in interest. Honestly the movies did not do the real Diagon Alley justice. There was just something so different about watching a screen and knowing it’s all special effects and witnessing actually  _ fucking magic  _ in action before her. Not even Universal with all it’s wonder could truly compare. Her heart nearly burst when she caught sight of movement in the window where a levitating  _ Nimbus 2000  _ was on full display.

Not that Lyra could particularly see the entire broom since there was a crowd of crowing children smashing their faces up against the glass leaving sticky smear marks in their wake. Snape grimaced when he caught sight and Lyra was inclined to agree.

It was after a few minutes of walking that she finally noticed something peculiar. She furrowed her brows.

W _ here the hell are all the grocery stores _ ?

Looking around, there didn’t seem to be any store dedicated to selling general foods. Candy, confections, and treats certainly, but fruits, vegetables, and meats were all missing from what she’s seen of the shopping district. Restaurants didn’t count since she doubted wizards were in habit of eating out every single meal. She also clearly remembered Molly Weasley cooking for her family.

So where the hell did wizards get their food? If there was no source of produce then do they grow it themselves? That seemed a possible theory with families like the Weasleys, but wizards couldn’t  _ all  _ be farmers could they? Lyra tried to imagine Lucius Malfoy delicately tending to his vegetable garden and found the image laughable. But as funny as it was, it still begged the question of where the food supplies were coming from. She thought to the giant feasts of Hogwarts that she could remember from the movies. That was a lot of food so  _ someone  _ had to be growing it. So who was the supplier?

The group came upon a crooked building and Lyra filed the question away for later.

“Gringotts bank,” Alan Snapeman said. “We’ll exchange currency here.”

As it turned out, wizards do  _ not  _ take card. In fact, in Snape’s return letter to her he had been completely confused as to what she meant by “card”. It was rather inconvenient to find out especially since when asked Snape also didn’t know what a check was either.

_ Wizards,  _ Lyra rolled her eyes,  _ what kind of society still deals solely in physical coin? _

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Bob asked skeptically, eyeing the foundations of the building. “Greenbotts looks like it may fall down at any minute.”

“ _ Gringotts  _ dear,” Margaret corrected. “And I agree for once with my husband,” said husband shot his wife a nasty look, “is it really safe?”

Lyra watched in amazement as the pasty pale face of her future professor began to gain a light tint of red, a sure sign that he was near the end of his rope. “Certainly,” Snapeman bit out through clenched teeth and started to walk forwards without another word with another dramatic bellow of his cape. Neither Black parents looked convinced, but followed the wizard through anyways.

Lyra walked at a more sedated pace offering a polite nod to the goblin guards at the doors. They ignored her and she decided to call them Jeremy in her head for their rudeness.

When she walked into the bank Severus Snape and her parents were already talking to a clerk.

“State your business,” the goblin said from his teller.

Snape opened his mouth to answer but was almost immediately cut off by Bob Black.

“What  _ are  _ you?” The man shouted in shock. Lyra’s eyes widened a fraction as she fought the urge to cover her face in her hands.

The goblin reared back with a grimace, sharp and jagged teeth on display to all. It was a look of offense. At least, Lyra assumed that’s what it was since she had never really seen what an offended goblin looked like before. Actually, looking around they all seemed equally grumpy. RBF if she ever did see one.

“Please Mr. Black,” Snapeman said snappily. “Let me.” He turned to the goblin, “This here is Bob Black and Margaret Black. They would like to open an account for their daughter Lyra Black.”

And like that, all traces of indignation were wiped from the goblin's face and replaced by what Lyra assumed was a look of surprise, if those blown open beady black eyes were of any indication.

“Black?” The goblin choked out.

“That’s right,” Margaret cut in before Snape could speak. “Say, I was wondering what your exchange rate is?” The mother looked at the stack of gold coins on the table, “I don’t think we’ve brought enough money to afford that much gold.”

“It-it’s… ah seventeen pounds to every galleon,” the goblin stuttered out, then added hastily, “L-lady Black.”

Alan Snapeman tried to speak again but this time was cut off by the husband, “Really? Only seventeen pounds for this nugget of gold?” He scrutinized the gold coins on the table closely then said to the goblin, “May I?”

“O-of course Lord Black!”

Bob picked up the gold coin and examined it with interest, “Wow! This is pretty heavy. And all sorcerers use these gallons?”

“ _ Galleons  _ Bob, not  _ gallons _ ,” Margaret corrected, snatching the coin from her husband’s hands and handing it back to the bewildered goblin. “So anyways. About the that account for my daughter…”

“Of course! Of course!” The goblin exclaimed and hastily pulled up a bunch of documents, “Ah. Would you first like to see a list of Black family accounts Lady Black?”

“Accounts?” Margaret asked, “Oh! You mean types of accounts?” She said clearly misunderstanding, “Sure. What kinds do you have?”

“Well let me just call your family accountant-”

“Oh for goodness sakes!” Snape finally blew up and growled out. “Enough with this nonsense.” He sighed deeply, so deep that Lyra could almost feel the despair wafting off the man from where she stood. “Just… Just let them open an account for their daughter and we’ll be on our way.”  _ And I can finally leave this madness behind  _ went unspoken.

Lyra only watched on in amusement as the flustered goblin (apparently even these vicious little creatures were scared of Severus Snape’s infamous glare) hurriedly set up her account where her parents deposited fifty galleons worth of pounds.

They also handed her a charmed coin pouch that connected directly to her vault, a complimentary gift to them for “years of profitable business between Gringotts and the Black family as a gift for your return”. It was a handy boon so Lyra kept her mouth sealed about any misunderstandings.

Once settled Snape hurriedly rushed the Blacks out of the bank, this time the guards at the door standing further at attention and dipping their heads towards Lyra’s direction politely. She smiled in return and mentally revoked their titles of Jeremy.

“Alright,” Severus said. “Now that’s settled it’s about time that I leave. I trust that you will be able to find your way around?” This he directed at Lyra apparently having given up on the competency of her parents. Of course he also probably didn’t care if they could or couldn’t get around Diagon Alley anyways.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Well actually-” Margaret began.

But Severus cut her off with a, “Good day.” And apparated away with a loud crack, startling Bob. 

Margaret pouted, “Well that was rude.” Lyra just rolled her eyes, grabbed her mother’s wrist, and began leading her parents away from the bank.

“Come on Mom. I wanna get my wand first.”

~*~

Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of Garrick Ollivander as the eccentric man flitted around the dusty old shop muttering to himself.

A thought popped into her head.

“Mr. Ollivander,” she called out to the man rummaging through wands while standing on that less than stable ladder which looked more frail than him. “Are you the only wand maker in the Isles?”

He glanced down at her, eyes dancing as he slowed in his movements. “Yes I do believe so. Unless you know of someone else I don’t.” He selected a few boxes and climbed down from the ladder.

The information circulated through her head as she processed it. Did that mean there were no monopoly laws in the British wizarding world? It would appear that way, especially since everyone required a wand and there was only one place to acquire them here. Perhaps it was a difficult industry to get into, probably a complex craft to learn or else there’d be more of them. But a Monopoly nonetheless. Lyra wondered if there were laws regulating the sale and pricing of wands. Magic was turning everything she’s ever learned about economics on its head. But she filled the information away for later as the old wizard approached her with the boxes.

“Alright my dear,” Ollivander said selecting one box from the stack he placed on the counter. He carefully extracted the wand from it’s cushion and handed it to her. “Birch wood with unicorn hair core, thirteen inches, slightly ridgid. Just oh, give it a little wave.”

Lyra felt skeptical despite already knowing the effects of magic, the idea what she could just wave this stick of wood and something out of the ordinary would happen seemed kinda silly. To be honest she felt rather ridiculous just standing there holding it.

“Well go on then,” Ollivander prompted.

She shrugged and decided to just give it a go. She waved the wand and, for a brief second, almost expected  _ something  _ to happen.

Nothing happened.

Lyra’s face fell into a deadpan. Was that it? Kinda disappointing. Ollivander hummed and quickly snatched the wand back from her fingers with a “definitely not”. It was just as quickly replaced with a new one, “Aspen wood with selkie hair core, somewhat springy.”

Lyra gripped this wand suddenly overcome by the urge to actually  _ make something happen this time _ . She was determined as she slightly raised it in preparation to produce magic. A strong feeling that this was her wand filled her and almost enthusiastically she made a flicking motion with her hand.

Nothing happened.

“No no no,  _ definitely  _ not,” Ollivander said shaking his head. He plucked back the wand from her hand and meandered over to the pile. “We’ve not given up on you yet young lady, we’ll find your wand.”

Lyra on the other hand was beginning to wonder if perhaps someone had made a mistake and she in fact  _ wasn’t  _ a witch. She remembered clearly from the books and movies that adolescent wizards and witches often showed signs of accidental magic throughout their childhood. This was a phenomena she definitely did not experience growing up this time around. She could also clearly remember that even if the wand was a wrong match or the wizard, generally  _ something  _ happened. Wouldn’t that be a kicker though? Reborn in the Wizarding world, only to be a muggle. 

“Here you go dear,” the old wandmaker approached her again with a new wand. “This one is made of Yew with a nice dragon heartstring center. Why don’t you give it a whirl?”

Swallowing back her growing skepticism, and disappointment that perhaps she wasn’t going to be a witch after all, Lyra gave the new wand a wave. Perhaps she just wasn’t wanting something to happen hard enough. Maybe she just had to  _ believe.  _ That’s how it always seemed to work out in magical fairytales.

Still nothing happened.

There was not a single spark, no moving or exploding object, not even the slightest breeze. Wand after wand Ollivander presented to her and wand after wand failed to produce a single iota of magic. Behind her, her parents were already gaining concerned looks on their faces as they began to figure out that something maybe wasn’t completely right. Of course that could’ve just been a parent’s reactions to Lyra’s own continuously growing sour expression.

Ollivander tisked as he returned yet another wand back to its box after it refused to react to Lyra. “Tricky customer indeed. But hope is not yet lost, I’ve had trickier customers before! We just have to find the right wand that’ll bring out that power within you young miss.” The kooky old man then got a particular gleam in his eye as he examined her, a knowing smile on his face. “Hmm… I wonder…”

He wandered to the back of the shop and after rummaging around for half a minute, returned with a box. Lyra knew the moment he opened it that it was definitely not her wand.

“Holly wood with a phoenix feather core, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Lyra almost rolled her eyes as she gave the familiar wand a futile wave. As predicted the wand gave absolutely no reaction. She didn’t even wait for the wandmaker to snag the wand back and just handed it back to him.

Ollivander shrugged and gave an expression like “eh it was worth a shot” then placed Harry Potter’s future wand back into its case.

They tried a few more wands after that and still nothing worked. The hypothesis that she was mistaken for having magic was becoming more and more of a plausible explanation.

“Try this one my dear,” the old man said. He handed her a lovely looking wand that had polished almost red wood. It was simple enough in design, utterly plain except for the relief of an orchid plant stretching out from the handle, four delicate orchids hanging from the stem. “Breech wood with Nundu spine core, twelve and a half inches and exceptionally supple.”

Lyra waved the wand.

To her surprise she was met with a brief shower of golden sparks that rained down from the tip of the wand before fading out of existence. Her parents both oo’d from behind her.

Ollivander was beaming at her. “Excellent. Quite the interesting wand you have there Miss Black. Breech wands usually choose wizards who are a bit older, a bit more experienced in life. One could say, wise beyond their years.” He nodded sagely, “Not unheard of to have one choose a witch as young as you but it is certainly uncommon. As for the core…” At this he gained a knowing smile, “Tell me dear, are you a stubborn one?”

Margaret laughed from behind, “Our Lyra is very stubborn.”

“Nundus,” Ollivander continued, “are quiet fierce and dangerous creatures and very very difficult to subdue. I can tell you’ll accomplish great things one day young Lyra. Great things indeed.”

The words rang familiar and Lyra wondered if Ollivander just told that to everyone who visited his shop. She could remember something along those lines from Harry’s visit too. From a business standpoint it wasn’t a bad idea per say, it could garner a certain endearment to the shop if Ollivander flattered every customer with that line. Of course, he could just be a kooky old man.

Lyra swallowed a sigh, “Thanks then,” she answered not exactly knowing how to respond to such a thing.

Ollivander smiled at her again, “Not a problem young lady. Your magical core is rather on the smaller side which explains the lack of reaction with the other wands, but with practice this wand will bring out the best in you. I hope you’ll enjoy your days at Hogwarts. That’ll be seven galleons my dear.”

They left the shop after they paid for Lyra’s new wand, which sat comfortably in her coat pocket. She was surprised to find that the sun had move a fair distance across the sky and that they had spent a significant part of their day trying out wands. It was well past noon and the entire family was exhausted from the long visit.

“Lunch?” Lyra proposed to her parents.

Bob agreed with his daughter enthusiastically, “Yes. I could kill for a burger right now, that took way too long. Where is there to eat around here anyways?”

“Let’s ask around,” Margaret suggested.

“Oh! Good idea honey,” Bob said.

Lyra, on the other hand, did not think that it was a good idea. Not with her ignorant and airheaded parents at least. But both were already charging off to bombard unsuspecting wizards with questions and she sighed as she braced herself for an even longer afternoon.

~*~

They ended up back in the Leaky Cauldron. Lunch was filling and absolutely delicious.

However, as delicious as her shepherd's pie was (and damn was Tom a good cook) Lyra was too busy mulling to truly enjoy it’s warm and hearty goodness.

“Oh stop pouting Lyra, you knew it wasn’t going to happen.”

She slumped back in her seat and groaned, “But Mom! That’s not fair! Everyone else is going to have a pet.”

“I hardly believe  _ everyone  _ will have a pet at Hogwarts. You’re exaggerating too much Lyra,” Margaret said. “You are such a little drama queen.”

“I’m a drama queen who  _ deserves to have a pet.  _ Mom, how am I going to send letters then!” She argued and suddenly sat up straight. Lyra gave her mother a serious look, “Mom. Technology doesn’t work with magic, I  _ need an owl. _ ”

“You don’t  _ need  _ an owl,” her mother answered. “You can just use the communal owlery Professor Snape talked about. And besides, you and I both know you weren’t planning on getting an owl you crazy cat lady.”

Lyra pouted, “You’re mean.” She paused then added, “Dad would let me get a cat.”

“Well your father is in the bathroom right now so tough luck sweetheart.”

As if summoned by the mention of him, Bob Black emerged from the bathroom and made his way over to his family. “You guys talking about me?”

“Dad,” Lyra said seriously. “Explain to mom that I  _ need  _ a cat.”

“Bob,” Margaret said. “Explain to our daughter that she definitely doesn’t.”

“Uhhh…” Bob looked between the two women of his life, Lyra shooting him pitiful looks while Margaret shot him deadly glares. He swallowed and quickly turned to Lyra, “Sorry sweetie but your mother is right. No cat.”

“Urgh!” She slumped back down in her seat and shot her father betrayed looks, “You’re weak.”

He held his hands up, “Hey now. That’s kinda mean.”

Lyra picked at what was left of her pie dejectedly. She had always been a cat person, this life and the last, and having a magical cat was going to be  _ so cool  _ but noooooo. Her parents were dicks.

“But why not,” she asked her mother. “It’s not like it’ll be home for most of the year. Why do you care?”

“You aren’t old enough to be responsible for a cat dear.”

She wanted to argue that she was actually older than her mother and perfectly capable of being responsible for a cat  _ and  _ herself but kept her tongue in check. It really rankled on her that she was old enough to possibly be these two’s parents (albeit she would’ve had to have them at a really young age) but they still dictated her life to this extent. A little over a decade ago if she wanted a cat she could very well go out and buy one (or rescue one, one should alway rescue instead) but now she needed the approval of two people nearly two decades her junior. Not to say she didn’t think of them as her parents, she really did, but it still stung like a slap to the face.

“Can we at least go and  _ look at  _ the cats?” She settled for.

Margaret seemed to debate the pros and cons and sighed.

“Alright alright, we can go look at the animals. But don’t think that I’ll change my mind about the cat, cause I definitely won’t.”

_ We’ll see about that. _

They walked down to Magical Menagerie after lunch and after visiting a few places on the way over to pick up other supplies. When Lyra’s gaze landed on the display of all those exotic magical animals her eyes lit up in childish joy. Sometimes, it was kinda great being a kid again.

While she was having the time of her life looking around the shop her parent’s were a little more reserve. Bob was actually just as excited as her forever a child at heart (how he and her strict mother ever got along long enough to be wed would always escape her) but Margaret was much more reserved and on edge as they walked through the store.

“Snakes?” She asked concerned, “They sell snakes to children.”

A sales witch walked up to them, “Good afternoon, looking for anything in particular?”

Margaret gave the woman a serious stare, “You guys allow these dangerous creatures to be sold to children?”

Lyra rolled her eyes and moved on as her mother began to bombard the poor witch with an assortment of loaded and accusatory questions. Better to just leave that situation untouched. Her father seemed to agree because he followed her quickly and quietly.

They slowly perused through the cramped and tiny store. A Fire Crab caught Lyra’s eyes with it’s brilliant array of colorful crystals. She would’ve considered getting one if not for the fact that it wasn’t soft at all and impossible to cuddle and of course there was the obvious situation with her mother’s ban on pets. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of those poisonous yellow snails leaving trails of puss-colored slime along the walls of their tank.

They made their way over to the selection of kneazles and cat-kneazle hybrids and Lyra immediately leaned over the pen of kittens all wandering around adorably.

“So fucking cute,” she muttered to herself beneath her breath so that her father wouldn’t hear. As laid back of a guy he was, especially for someone in the army, he was surprisingly very non lenient with foul language. And especially not from his eleven year old daughter. But cuteness like this could not be contained with a few ordinary words.

She eyes in on one particular kitten rolling on its back away from the other play-wrestling kittens. It was attempting to bite its own tail, its entire lower body bent over in the air as it batted futiling at the twisting appendage. She wanted to squeal like a little girl.

“Mum, I definitely want this one.”

“But Hermione, it’s so… Mangy.”

The name caught her ears and Lyra glanced up next to them and caught sight of a familiar face.

Standing right there, looking stubbornly up at her mother with her arms wrapped around a giant ginger cat, was a much younger Emma Watson. Frizzy hair and all.

Lyra blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected to run into such a major player so soon, much less one third of the golden trio. Emma Watson, or rather Hermione Granger, looked just as she remembered from the Philosopher's Stone. It was almost uncanny how alike these people were from their alternate universe actors.

Lyra noted with slight alarm that Hermione was definitely holding Crookshanks, a character that wasn’t supposed to pop up until the third book. Has her presence already began sowing little seeds of change so soon? She wasn’t sure how her presence would have led to Hermione meeting Crookshanks so early but the butterfly effect and all she guessed.

She must’ve been staring too long because the mother daughter Grangers paused in their conversation and looked over at her. Jean Granger asked, “Can we help you young lady?”

Lyra snapped out of her musings, “Oh! No, nothing. Sorry I was just ah…” She thought of an excuse for her prolonged staring, “Wondering why that cat in particular?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Granger said with a note of surprise, “Are you American? I wasn’t aware Hogwarts took in foreign students as well.”

“We live here, actually.” Lyra said, “Or at least, for now. We move a lot.”

Jean took in her father’s uniform, he was bent over looking at the kittens with awe and not at all paying attention to the conversation, and understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes. “Military I take it?”

Lyra shrugged, “More or less.”

“Is this your first year too?” Hermione suddenly spoke up. Lyra nodded and the girl smiled in excitement, “Isn’t it all just so exciting. I mean, I take it you’re muggleborn like me, but to suddenly find out you’re a witch and having an explanation for all those amazing things that happened as a child? Isn’t it wonderful!”

Lyra didn’t mention that she did not ever experience accidental magic growing up. Maybe it’s because she’s not actually a child, or maybe Ollivander’s words rang true and she just wasn’t as magically powerful as others. She put on a smile and answered, “It’s pretty amazing.”

Granger nodded, “Oh and about the cat well… Half-kneazle actually. His name is Crookshanks,” she hoisted up kneazle-cat so she could get a better look and it hissed angrily at Lyra. “They told me the poor thing’s never left this shop! No one wanted him and I just can’t understand why. He’s a perfectly good cat and since he needs someone to love him I thought that person could be me. I’m sure he’s just a big softy on the inside.” Crookshanks hissed at the accusation that he was a “big softy”.

Jean sighed, “Hermione…” Clearly not agreeing with her daughter’s opinions of the cat.

Lyra thought that most likely Hermione saw a bit of herself in the mangy cat. Unwanted and outcasted, from what she remembered Hermione’s large intellect played a role in alienating her from others her age. She likely saw herself in Crookshanks, whether consciously or unconsciously though Lyra suspected it was the latter, and perhaps through a bit of projecting if she could somehow save this cat then she would be saving herself.

_ Wow Lyra _ , the American witch thought to herself,  _ can we not start psychoanalyze every eleven year old we meet? Sounds like a dreadful habit to develop.  _

“Mum, you said I could pick out any one I want and I can feel it! Crookshanks and I were meant to be.” Technically she wasn’t wrong, whether now or two years down the line those two were meant to be.

Jean Granger looked helpless at the face of her determined daughter, and eventually sighed. “Alright dear. I did say it was your choice.” Hermione beamed at this statement.

“And what about you?” Hermione then turned to ask Lyra, “Are you getting a pet as well? At least, I’m assuming that’s why you’re here.”

“Sadly, I am not. My mom said no to any pets.”

She received a look of pity at this.

“That’s a shame,” Hermione said. “Well, if we end up in the same house I guess I could lend you Crookshanks occasionally.” The angry cat once again hissed at the sound of its own name and Lyra fought to keep a grimace off her face.  _ No thank you.  _ Lover of felines or not, she wasn’t going to tangle with that ferocious beast anytime soon.

They began walking towards the front of the store. Lyra’s interest in looking at animals pushed back by the immediate intrigue at meeting one of the golden trio in person.

“Thanks,” she told the bushy haired witch instead. “What house do you think you’ll end up in? You seem to be pretty well read already, is this your first time in Diagon Alley?”

At this Hermione bit her lip, her expression immediately shifting to discomfort and hesitation. “I-” She paused and closed her mouth, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. Lyra could practically see the internal conflict in her eyes. “Yes, this is our second trip here. And I think I’ll be in Gryffindor. What about you?”

The conviction was certainly there, Hermione truly did believe she would end up in Gryffindor. Lyra’s inner Potterhead was swirling with dusty facts and theories she had indulged in her last life. The conviction that Hermione would end up in Gryffindor was certainly there, but so was a hesitation and uncertainty. Lyra knew her next words would probably have a deep impact on the impressionable and secretly insecure eleven year old.

“I think…” she thought over her words. “I think I’ll either end up in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Knowledge drives me, I enjoy reading, but I also value ambition and bright dreams.” Hermione looked at her in surprise.

“Oh. That’s an interesting way to describe Slytherin, I hadn’t really thought about it that way before. Bright dreams…” She trailed off in thought, “I mean. I’m not trying to say that there’s anything  _ wrong  _ with Slytherin. Just that there’s some… bad connotations attached to it.” Hermione glanced at her in worry.

Not wanting to upset the girl more Lyra answered with a, “Oh no. Don’t worry about it. I’m completely aware of how Slytherin is viewed. I just ask that people remember humans aren’t inherently  _ bad  _ and to label children with that title from a young age is just asking for trouble. I mean, do you think  _ I’m  _ evil?”

Hermione shook her head. “You’re super nice! You- Oh my goodness I don’t think I’ve asked for your name yet. I’m Hermione Granger.” She awkwardly shifted her arms around Crookshanks (who made an annoyed noise at being moved from his comfortable perch) and held out a hand.

Lyra took it with a kind smile, “It’s nice to meet you Hermione. I’m Lyra Black.”

“So you were talking about Rave-”

A commotion from the cashier’s counter drew their attention. Lyra wanted to groan when she realized that her mother was still scolding that poor sales witch who was trying her best to disappear behind the counter. Lyra also noticed that there was a mother-son pair standing behind Margaret both looking distinctly annoyed. The boy was clutching a small package of kneazle treats.

Margaret said a particularly scathing thing to the clerk, completely unawares of the customers behind her. Lyra glanced up at her father but he had that look on his face that said he was definitely not getting involved in that mess. She narrowed her eyes at his cowardice but reluctantly prepared herself to go talk to her mother.

“Sorry Hermione. It was nice talking to you but if you’ll please excuse me while I go deal with my Mom…”

“Oh. Okay. Sure…” Hermione said with a squeak feeling uncomfortable with the situation.

Lyra gave her one last wave and proceeded across the room towards the counter.

And she would’ve made it too, if her ears had not caught something that burned hot fury into her chest.

“Muggles are so uncouth. Absolutely disgusting.”

Her head snapped to the source of the voice and was met with the sight of the same boy standing impatiently behind her mother. His lips were twisted into a sneer as he glared at the back of Margaret’s head. His mother, though looking indifferent, also had an air of annoyance and superiority to her. Both of them screamed purebloods.

Immediately changing her trajectory, Lyra ended up standing right in front of the young boy who took in her muggle clothes and looked away in dismissal. This only served to fuel her anger.

“I believe you owe my mother and I an apology.”

Her word were calm and collected, not betraying the fury she actually felt. Because  _ sure  _ her mother was sort of uncouth in the way typical American tourists were, both loud and unaware of their surroundings, but this little brat had no right to disrespect her like that, especially to a woman decades his senior. And  _ disgusting?  _ Lyra had a few bones to pick with this arrogant little ass.

The boy looked over at her incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe that she had the audacity to actually talk to him. Now that he was fully facing her the name  _ Blaise Zabini  _ popped into her head.

“Owe who an apology?” He finally sneered up when he realized she wasn’t going to step out of the way. “I’m not the one who is blocking up an entire line and preventing other shoppers from going on their business.”

“That,” Lyra said, “was not what you said. There was not a single thing you said that had to do with complaining about the hold up.”

“And what?” Blaise challenged back. “I said nothing that wasn’t true. Who are you anyway?”

She narrowed her eyes at the pompous Italian boy. “Lyra Black. And I won’t repeat myself again, you  _ will  _ apologize for insulting my mother.”

There was a distinct widening of his eyes and for a moment the boy was lost for words. He glanced between her and her mother, took in their identical aristocratic cheekbones, then took in Lyra’s sweeping black hair (courtesy of her father), and examined their clearly muggle clothes. Whatever conclusion he came to about her identity was reflected in his expression as skepticism. He didn’t outright refute her claim though.

Not that Lyra had to claim anything. She was telling the whole truth after all, her name really was Lyra Black, and whatever misconceptions he had come to was not her problem. Let him wallow in the stress of maybe having insulted a powerful and prestigious pureblood clan.

“ _ You’re _ a Black?” The disbelief was clear in his voice.

“What?” Lyra challenged, “Do you not believe me? Do you think I’m  _ lying _ ?” She hissed out the accusation still furious at his original comments. “I’m going to assume that you are also a first year Hogwarts student like me,” she didn’t really have to assume of course, “If you are really questioning my integrity then we’ll just see at the sorting ceremony now won’t we?” This seemed to silence him.

“Black…” Blaise tested the name out again on his tongue, eyes gauging it against her appearance and trying to find deception in her expression. There was none to be found. She had told the whole truth. Of course, the combination of her first name Lyra (of the star) and the last name Black was enough to turn the heads of even the most arrogant of purebloods no matter her dress.

“If you are Black,” Blaise said carefully while eyeing her attire. “Then I must sincerely apologize for my words against your mother.”

Said mother had still not noticed their presence behind her and had now moved on the scolding the workers about open cages that children could easily reach into.

The apology rang hollow though, only said through the worry of losing face in front of a major British household but Lyra knew that it was probably the best she was going to get out of the arrogant boy for now. She was about to accept his apology (best not cause needless discourse before seven years of school together) when he opened his mouth again.

“Of course, last I heard all the Blacks were either dead or locked behind bars.”

“Blaise.” His mother suddenly spoke up after being a silent observer throughout the entire exchange. Her tinged italian voice, though gentle and smooth, had a warning bite to it. What Blaise had just said was clearly out of line.

His face immediately cowed and his head dipped down submissively, “My apologize  _ mi madre _ .”

Her smile warmed just a degree with affection as she gazed down at her son with those dark immersing eyes. Taking in her face now, Lyra could see exactly how she became the focal point for so much male attraction and also how she obtained the title of the the black widow. Just the air about her revealed her to be both a beautiful and dangerous woman. Men probably knew logically to stay away but couldn’t help themselves in the end.

Slowly, the woman’s eyes drew up to look at Lyra. There was a slight tilt to her ruby lips.

“Do forgive my son,” the witch said. “He is still learning. My name is Aranea Zabini and this is my son Blaise, it is a pleasure to meet you young Black.”

Lyra dipped her head in acknowledgement and wiped all hint of anger from her face, knowing from her years in the business world how to spot a natural born predator. And Aranea Zabini was downright  _ vicious  _ no matter how lovely her face _.  _ “The pleasure is all mine Lady Zabini.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say, because the tilt to Aranea’s lips rose just a slight bit more. Despite her muggle clothes, Lyra’s name and attitude gained some semblance of approval in the woman.

“I can see that you hail from the Americas then,” the woman commented in her exotic voice. “Since my little Blaise also comes from abroad I hope you both will get along well and support each other at Hogwarts.”

Blaise and Lyra glanced briefly at each other. His eyes were tight at the suggestion but Lyra, with her years of mask crafting experience, smiled easily in response. She allowed her eyes to crinkle, “That would be lovely. As long as no further insults come to my family of course.”

“Of course,” Aranea smiled.

Margaret suddenly noticed her presence.

“Hm? Oh Lyra! What are you doing here honey, I thought you were looking at the kitties.”

Lyra mentally sighed. How could her mom be so oblivious to the obvious tension in the air? Actually, how did she miss that entire exchange behind her anyways? But as exasperated as she was, Lyra kept the smile on her face as she twisted to face Margaret.

“Mom, I think you’re holding up the line a little.”

Margaret made an ‘O’ with her mouth as she glanced up at the Zabinis. A sheepish expression came over her face as she began shuffling out of the way. “I am terribly sorry!”

Aranea’s face remind pleasant but the obvious muggleness of Margaret made her eyes turn just a degree more frigid. “It is no problem.” Blaise’s expression didn’t seem to agree.

“So so sorry. Here, let me just scoot a little this way…” Margaret nervously laughed, all previous anger forgotten. Lyra awkwardly shuffled close behind her and the Zabinis walked up to the counter where the sales witch, red faced and near tears, began to help them checkout.

After a long silence of nothing but the sniffling clerk meekly finishing the transaction Aranea turned back to Lyra as Blaise collected the packaged goods.

“It was a pleasure to meet you once again young Black.” The witch then turned to face her son, “Let us be off  _ mi bambino _ .”

Blaise answered with an obedient “yes mother” and they pair left the shop.

Lyra turned to face her mother, lips pursed and arms crossed. Margaret took in the expression and replied with, “What?” Lyra rolled her eyes.

“Mom. You’ve gotta stop doing this.”

“Excuse me? Snakes Lyra! They sell  _ snakes  _ here! To  _ children _ ! Bob, back me up.”

Lyra also shot her father an expecting look.

Across the room, Bob Black looked up startled, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. His mouth fell open slightly and a dumbfounded “uuhhhh” sound came out of it. He glanced over at Mrs. Granger, hoping for help, but the woman just gave the entire family a confused and slightly concerned look.

Both Black women sighed in exasperation.

“Useless.” They insulted in unison.

~*~

“We should exchange phone numbers,” Hermione said to her later. The two girls had decided to continue their shopping together since Lyra had yet to go to Flourish & Blotts and Hermione (since this was her second trip to the magical shopping district) had already been there once before and offered to help find the required course texts.

Lyra offered her an apologetic smile, “Sorry. We’re still moving in so we don’t have a landline yet.” She thought for a moment, “You could always give me your number and I’ll give you a call when we get one. Or we can just meet up on the train. Whichever comes first.”

“That’s a great idea!” Hermione excitedly turned to her mother, “Mum. Do you have a ball point and paper I could borrow?” Mrs. Granger fished through her purse and handed Hermione the requested items. The young witch quickly scribbled out her phone number in script far too elegant for someone only eleven years old (Lyra may have been a little jealous) and handed the sheet over. Lyra gave the number a quick glance before pocketing the slip.

“Any suggestions then?” She asked Hermione. Lyra gestured to the rest of the store.

The question brought a huge smile to the bushy haired witch’s face. Hermione practically gushed at the request and immediately jumped into an explanation of all the great books she found on her first trip here.

Lyra already regretted asking.

Meanwhile they were exploring the store, their parents were having a conversation near the front of the shop. Lyra assumed it was a mutual feeling of kinship at being muggle parents to recently discovered witches.

“It’s just such a shame that we can’t use our wands yet,” Hermione said dejectedly. “There are so many spells that I would  _ love  _ to try out- Oh here! This was an interesting read!”

Hermione grabbed an  _ enormous  _ tome and dropped it into Lyra’s arms. The reincarnated girl almost fell over at both the weight and shock.

“It’s all about various historical figures in British wizarding history,” Hermione explained. “It’s even got some things in there on some of the Hogwarts Founders. Not nearly as extensive as in  _ Hogwarts a History  _ but it’s sufficient. There’s a whole  _ twenty chapters  _ dedicated to recordings of Merlin though!” Hermione sounded so excited about it.

Lyra balked at the idea.  _ Twenty whole chapters on just on one dude! This book is like 2000 pages long…  _ Even she wasn’t this invested in studying as a business major nor when studying for her CPA certification. And this wasn’t even required reading either. She was really going to eat her own foot if Hermione wasn’t meant for Ravenclaw.

“Did… Did you read this entire thing?” Lyra asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely! Twice even,” Hermione confirmed with a smile. “It’s really quite the interesting read. Not as interesting as this one though!” The girl picked up another  _ enormous fucking book  _ and was about to place it in Lyra’s arms when she hastily moved out of the way.

“A-actually,” Lyra said with a nervous laugh. “I think I’m good with what I have here. I mean… I’m more interested in economics anyways, not so much history…” Not untrue, but so far she hadn’t seen any business or economic books in the store so hopefully that’ll stay Hermione’s hand.

“Oh! What an interesting topic!” The other witch exclaimed, “I haven’t studied it myself per say. But it’s not as though I’m not interested because  _ I really am _ . How did you get into it yourself? Economics isn’t a course they offered in our primary schools here. Is it different in the States?”

“More of a… Personal interest,” Lyra said. Economics at a non-college level in the United States? HA! She almost wanted to laugh at the absurd suggestion. “I don’t have any books on it though but I’d be happy to talk to you about it.”

Hermione nodded, “That sounds wonderful. Oh I really hope that we’ll be in the same house Lyra. It’ll be so much fun talking to you I’ve never…” Her voice grew a little quieter, “I’ve never really had someone my age to talk to before. I mean… I’ve never…”

Lyra’s heart melted a bit. She never got around to being a mother in her last life (more so focused on accumulating wealth, fat lotta good that did her dying as young as she did) but she’s always had a soft spot for young kids. Hermione, as smart as she was, really was just a kid. And right then standing there looking for all the world vulnerable was kinda heartbreaking.

“I’m happy to be your friend Hermione,” Lyra said kindly. “And if we do end up in the same house that would be great. But we don’t have to stop being friends if we do end up in different ones. I think that you should go to the house that you think suits you best.” Gryffindor… Really did not fit this young witch. Hermione was headstrong and stubborn sure with enough bravery to spare, but she was a natural born scolar more than anything. Knowledge was her passion that much was obvious (as if reading and then rereading a dusty old 2000 paged book for  _ leisure  _ purposes wasn’t evidence enough) “Don’t pick a house just for the sake of friends. You’ll probably end up miserable.”  _ Until a mountain troll inevitably tries to kill you which kicks off your mutual friendship with a soulless ginger and the boy-who-lived. _

Hermione looked at her in surprise.

“Well then…” Lyra said, “We should probably find the books I need for school.”

Hermione blinked, “Oh… Of course! Here, I’ll show you where to find them! I know where  _ all  _ the required books are.”

Lyra was  _ actually _ going to eat her own foot is Hermione wasn’t in Ravenclaw.

~*~

“How could you  _ possibly  _ pronounce  _ King’s Cross  _ wrong?! It’s literally two actual words that you  _ actually know!” _

“Ring’s Ross-”  _ Slap!  _ “ What! I’m saying it correct! Stop hitting me woman!”

“You are most definitely NOT saying it correct Bob! You are doing this on purpose aren’t you? You are purposefully trying to tick me off!”

“I’m not  _ trying  _ to do anything Margaret. You’re paranoid-!”  _ SLAP! _ “ **STOP hitting me** !”

Right. So her parents were complete children. Lyra wanted to hide her face and disassociate herself from the two embarrassments behind her. Apparently it didn’t matter whether they were in the magical world or not, these two would forever continue to break proper decorum wherever they went. That much was obvious as the three weaved through the crowded train station and the British people around them stopped to stare at the loud Americans causing a racket. No wonder the US got such a bad rep for being impolite. It was fucking people like her parents.

“Can you guys stop?” Lyra hissed under her breath. As expected neither one of them noticed her, both too caught up in their love of arguing with each other. She really wanted to sigh, positive that she would have more gray hairs in this life by time she was twenty than she had in her last life at forty.

So she just quietly led them to the platform between 9 and 10. It was only then that Bob and Margaret stopped talking.

“So uh… What now?” Her father asked intelligently. And by that meaning in a completely dumb tone.

“In Professor Snape’s letter,” Lyra explained. “He said that we just walk right through there.” She pointed at the brick pillar.

Bob Black blinked owlishly, “Uhh… Won’t that hurt?”

“I said we walk  _ through  _ it.”

“And I said  _ won’t that hurt? _ ”

Lyra groaned, completely giving up on the competency of her father. At least her mother still had hope.

“I have to agree with your father Lyra. Professor Snape wants us to walk  _ through  _ bricks? I’m not sure about that.”

Nevermind. Both of her parents were hopeless. Nevermind that they’ve both seen miraculous feats of magic, both will forever continue to question her (despite her possibly being the only sane person in their family, and considering the fact she was actually a grown reincarnated woman stuck in an eleven year old body that was really saying something).

Not even bothering to give either of them an explanation Lyra proceeded to walk straight into the brick pillar, not even flinching as the very realistic-looking bricks came dangerously close to her face, and then magically phased through and reappeared on a near identical platform as _ expected _ . A large red steam engine train greeted her and she felt excitement course through her veins.

_ Hogwarts Express. _

This was so damn cool.

“-DON’T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH THIS MARGARET!”

And the moment was ruined.

Lyra turned around to see her parents appear through the magical barrier (she was staring along with everyone else on the platform, how embarrassing). Bob with his arms up to cover his face looking hilariously similar to a monkey, limbs flailing about (contrasting greatly with his admittedly handsome face and serious-looking military uniform). Margaret looked much less flustered than her husband but there was a wild look in her eyes that showed she was actually shocked on the inside. Lyra’s mother had a hand clenched painfully around her father’s shoulder and had apparently had to forcefully dragged the seasoned military veteran through.

“You two,” Lyra began, “are completely hopeless.”

“And you, daughter mine,” Margaret retorted. “Are hopelessly rude.”

She shrugged, not denying the statement.

They moved towards the train and Lyra took the time to thoroughly examine the vehicle of legends, something she hadn’t seen outside the replica at Universal. It was stunning. The movies really didn’t do that gorgeous sheen of crimson justice. It glimmered just right, catching just a bit of the sun. Lyra had never been the type of gal to fluster over the beauty of trains and cars and ships and planes, but standing here in the presence of the Hogwarts Express?

There was little else that could compare to the majestic beast.

( _ Maybe Thorin Oakenshield,  _ she thought,  _ but that’s the wrong fanfiction _ )

Bob Black let out an impressed whistle. He stood in that way that all embarrassing American fathers did when they saw something manly and impressive, with legs contrapposto and wide, hands on hips, and upper body slouched slightly for some inexplicable reason. It was _ the Dad stance  _ if Lyra ever saw one.

“Damn,” Bob said in an equally impressed voice. “Pigward really knows how to make a train.”

Margaret sighed having totally given up on correcting his pronunciation of the school.

After appreciating the majesty of the crimson steam engine, Lyra began scouring the platform for a hint of bushy hair. She was disappointed to not find Hermione, though they had arrived rather early, it’s just that she had expected the Grangers to be just as punctual as well.

She did spot another familiar face.

Aranea Zabini almost immediately found her as soon as Lyra set eyes on the woman. The Black Widow curved her ruby lips up into an almost seductive smile (had Lyra not been eleven in this life maybe she wouldn’t mind Aranea actually trying to seduce her, but alas she was eleven). The Woman (capital lettering required) placed a neatly manicured hand on her son’s shoulders. Blaise looked up at his mother then looked to where Aranea motioned. He scowled when his eyes met Lyra’s.

She fought to keep a mocking grin off her face.

“Young Black,” Aranea greated as the two Zabini’s approached. Lyra dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“Lady Zabini,” she politely said. “Please, call me Lyra.” She bent down just slightly in a pureblood formal bow she had learned from a wizarding etiquette book (one should always put effort into learning and respecting the culture of whatever society they are walking in), and grinned internally when Aranea gave her an impressed look.

Blaise scoffed and turned away.

“Wonderful form Lyra,” the Woman complemented. Lyra did not miss the way the Zabini matriarch used her name as requested. A good sign… Probably. “You have learned much since our last meeting.”

“Thank you Lady Zabini.”

“Aranea,” Aranea Zabini said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other in the future Lyra Black.” Then a sly but nonetheless beautiful tilt of a smile and Lyra felt her heart pick up beat. Curse this young prepubescent body, Lyra would’ve loved nothing more than to be wooed by such a gorgeous specimen. 

Margaret wore a slightly stunned expression, “Oh! You’re that woman from the pet store!” Her face grew sheepish with embarrassment, “I’m very sorry about that day. I hope you can forgive me…”

“There is… Nothing to forgive,” Aranea said carefully as if she did not believe her own words. The tall Woman gazed down at Lyra’s mother with slightly disdained eyes, smile gone, but she was much too proper to truly show how much she didn’t like Margaret. Besides, she was under the impression that these were long lost squib relatives of the Black family (a entirely untrue rumour that has been running rampant through the wizarding community since their appearance at Gringotts -- the real Blacks have exactly zero ties to the States across the pond).

“Mom,” Lyra said. “This is Lady Aranea Zabini of the Noble House of Zabini. They’re an ancient Italian wizarding family.” She had the forethought to also purchase books on wizarding family nobility (“European Wizard Nobility and Family Trees” by Donald Quack) alongside her basic etiquette book (“50 Ways to Pass for a Pureblood” by Leonard Dickerson) and all her school requirements (as well as all the ones Hermione had forced into her arms). Her memories of Harry Potter lore were a bit rusty so it was nice to have actual confirmation of what was actual canon and what was just her headcanons (thought apparently much of the fan theories had been correct).

“And this is my mother Margaret Black,” Lyra said to the Woman. “And my father Robert Black.”

“Call me Bob!” Bob said amicably.

Aranea’s gaze fell upon her father as she took him in, US military uniform and all. Her ruby lips twitched unnoticably. Finally she said with a very shallow dip of her head, “Lady Black. Lord Black.” It was barely an acknowledgement and Lyra felt a little indigent at it, but she also knew she wasn’t going to change centuries of prejudice in just one conversation so she held her tongue.

Margaret let out an flustered giggle, “Lady? Oh my, you flatter me Mrs. Zabini.” She patted down her dressed and looked away with dusted cheeks, clearly delighted at the title.

“Mrs. Zabini” noticeably grew colder in her gaze when addressed with the title. It was enough that Lyra gave her mother just the slightest elbow nudge hoping the woman would understand. Margaret just look down at her in confusion and slight annoyance and Lyra sighed.

“I apologize Lady Zabini,” Lyra quickly said hoping to break up the suddenly tense atmosphere. “My parents are not accustomed to European wizarding culture being from the States and all.”

“What?” Margaret asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

Aranea observed them for a second before nodding her acknowledgement. “It is alright young Black, I understand.” Then she faced Margaret, “You have said nothing wrong Lady Black. But I hope you’ll understand that here we expect a certain level of etiquette, such as addressing certain people by their proper titles. For now this misunderstanding is forgivable, but in the future more will be expected.”

Margaret blinked in surprise, not expecting that reply. “Oh,” was all she said.

The steam engine behind them all made a loud bellow and the conversation stopped in its tracks. Lyra found a clock across the platform and was surprised to find that their conversation had killed much of the time and the train would be leaving very soon.

“Time is almost up,” Aranea commented in her enchanting accent. She gazed down affectionately at Blaise, “ _ Mi bambino _ , I will see you during Yule my love.”

“Until Yule  _ mamma _ ,” Zabini answered back.

Aranea leaned down and placed a kiss on each of her son’s cheeks and he responded the same. They briefly hugged and broke apart. She gave her son a knowing look.

“Do get along with Lyra Black  _ mi bambino.  _ Make the Zabini name proud.”

Blaise sighed, “Yes  _ mamma _ .”

Aranea smiled one last time and offered the Blacks a farewell and apparated away.

“That-! What in the blazes was that?” Bob exclaimed in shock at the loud crack. “Mr. Snake did that thing too and disappeared!” Lyra merely patted him reassuringly on the arm but reserved her gaze for the now lone Zabini.

“Well then Zabini, shall we board the train?” She asked innocently knowing that the mere suggestion would annoy the pompous pureblood. Like she expected he narrowed her eyes at her but made no other move to insult. “I’m sure your mother would want us to.” Now he couldn’t refuse.

“Of course Black,” Blaise answered haughtily. He then smirked at her, “I hope you do not mind sitting with some of my  _ friends. _ ” It was now Lyra’s turn to narrow her eyes at him. He knew that she knew that his “friends” would all be the same pompous purebloods like himself and he knew that she knew that it was likely going to annoy the hell out of her the entire car ride.

“Of course,” she replied without any indication of her annoyance. “As long as you do not mind me inviting my other friend along.”

Blaise immediately lost his smile, “What friend?”

“Oh?” Lyra asked innocently, “You don’t remember? That girl I was with at Magical Menagerie.”

“I do not… recall.”

She grinned at him viciously, “You really don’t remember? Her name is Hermione Granger.”

Blaise opened his mouth to retort, “You cannot invite some-!” He paused and glanced up at her parents then scowled. “Fine Black. We’ll sit with your  _ friend  _ but just know that none of us will tolerate any ignorant behavior.”

“I’m sure she’ll behave just fine.” Considering Lyra had also made sure that Hermione got a copy of the same etiquette book she did. She wasn’t going to leave her new friend hanging. “See you in the compartment?”

He gave her a stiff nod then practically stormed off.

Lyra turned back to her parents now that was taken care of. Really, she was enjoying annoying these preteens a little too much. This year was shaping up to be a good one even without the added pleasure of being able to learn real fucking  _ magic _ .

“Oh Lyra,” Margaret said melancholy. “I’m going to miss you so much sweetheart!” She bent down and wrapped her daughter up in a tight hug. Lyra smiled sadly and returned the warm embrace. Despite their sometimes oblivious behavior she really did love her new parents of this life.

“I’m so glad you’re making so many friends already,” Margaret said pulling back and looking at her tearfully. Lyra felt an urge to snort at the suggestion. Hermione sure but Blaise a friend? Yeah right.

“Hey hey, let me get in there!” Her dad said coming in for a hug.

Lyra made the obligatory preteen noise of complaint when Bob wrapped his arms around Margaret and herself, making it a huge cuddly hugfest, but then leaned in tighter and just basked in the love emanating from these two people.

“We’re gonna miss you Pumpkin,” Bob said giving the top of her head a kiss. “You go show them what us Blacks are made of at Pigwards!”

“It’s  _ Hogwarts  _ Bob,” but there was no heat to Margaret’s voice. Lyra chuckled wetly at the exchange not even realizing she was tearing up.

“I love you guys,” she muttered lowly.

“We love you too sweetheart,” Margaret said hugging her again tighter.

Finally after several moment her parents let go of her and Lyra finally had the arm movement freedom to wipe some of the tears from her eyes. They stood up simultaneously.

“Okay,” she said sniffling. “I should go before I miss the train. That would be bad.”

“You could say,” Bob said slyly. “That it would be a….  _ Trainwreck.”  _ He wiggled his eyebrows at them.

Margaret gave him a backhanded slap to the stomach and he made an “oof” noise and gave his wife a kicked puppy look..

“See you sweetheart,” Margaret called as Lyra started to walk away.

“Give ‘em hell sweetie!” Bob shouted through his pain as he clutched his gut.

Lyra waved bye and stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

~*~

Lyra didn’t find Hermione in the end, which was a damned shame. It would’ve been great to see some baby pureblood snobs get all flustered and annoyed and not being able to do anything about it. It was probably for the best though, Lyra thought, since there was a good chance they would’ve been terrible to Hermione anyways. Best not ruin the muggleborn’s first day at Hogwarts.

Flipside to that, she found the to-be Slytherin first years compartment almost immediately. They had been deep in conversation when she approached and opened the door and the entire group fell silent when they looked up at her. Blaise gave her a neutral expression.

“Yo.” She greeted deadpan.

None of them knew how to respond to that and when they continued to be silent Lyra took it upon herself to walk into the compartment, put her bags up, and sit down, making herself comfortable.

A pug-faced girl lifted her nose into the air and huffed. “So this is the famous ‘long lost’ Black everyone has been talking about. I see what you mean Blaise, no manners at all. I have no idea what everyone is so excited about.” She crossed her arms as if that would articulate her point further.

Lyra tilted her head to the side and appraised the girl then gave her an amused look.

“No manners?” Lyra echoed, “Coming from the prat who thinks talking behind someone’s back is appropriate? Especially to someone who has the approval of her Lady Zabini?” She turned her sharp gaze to Blaise, “Wouldn’t you agree with me Zabini? I’m sure your mother would.”

The entire compartment fell silent again.

Blaise finally cleared his throat.

“Pansy. You should apologize-”

“What!” The pug-faced girl shouted in outrage, “For whot? I didn’t say anything wrong!”

Blaise glared at her, “You will apologize to Black Parkinson or will you continue to insult my mother in such a way?”

“B-but-” Pansy sputtered for a moment, face red.

“Oh it’s fine,” Lyra spoke up. “I take no offense. Afterall, uncouth children will be uncouth. There isn’t much that can be done about it. I’m sure you didn’t mean it right Pansy Parkinson?” She leaned down closer to the girl from across the compartment.

If possible the girl’s face turned even redder.

A chuckle came from next to Lyra.

She turned to face the pretty blonde sitting there. The girl held out a hand to her.

“Daphne Greengrass,” the blonde greeted pleasantly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lyra Black. Welcome back to the Isles.”

Lyra didn’t correct the “welcome back” part. Let these purebloods believe what they will, better for her business in the future anyways. It was funny how so many people would fall all over themselves to please somewith all for a name. She primly took Greengrass’s hand and gently shook it.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I’m Theodore Nott,” came a voice from her other side. He had mousy hair, a boyish face, and a soft friendly smile. Lyra turned and also shook his hand.

Lyra offered Blaise a sly smile teasingly, “And we’ve already met.” He responded to this with a wry smile.

The all turned to Pansy now. Lyra held out a hand.

The girl didn’t look like she wanted to either answer or take her hand, was almost pouting, but not taking Lyra’s offering would be a huge insult as per wizarding pureblood customs. The girl was smart enough not to make unnecessary enemies this early into the year, especially with a supposed member of a powerful and wealthy family. Reluctantly she responded with a tight “Pansy Parkinson” and took Lyra’s hand in her own in what must’ve been the quickest handshake in history. Then retracted her arm as if burned.

Oh but she did get verbally burned, Lyra thought humorously.

“Lyra Black,” she said to Pansy with an easy smile.

Pansy wrinkled her nose and looked away.

“So…” Blaise said. “As I was saying before Black came in, I’m betting on Weasley being in Gryffindor.”

“That’s much too easy Blaise,” Theodore complained. “We  _ all  _ know Weasley is going to end up there. As if his entire family hasn’t been sorted there already, you can’t bet on something we all agree on.”

Daphne cut in, “Well I have my galleons on Hufflepuff for the Longbottom boy.”

“Weren’t his parents in Gryffindor?” Theodore asked.

“Sure,” the blonde agreed. “But you weren’t there at last year’s gala. The poor thing looked like he was scared of his own shadow. Not that I blame him, Augusta Longbottom is a frightening woman.”

“I’m with Greengrass on this one,” Pansy said. “Hufflepuff for sure.”

“Well I’m putting my bet in for Gryffindor on that one,” Theodore said.

Pansy snorted. “Your loss then. Usual bet then? Twenty galleons in. How about you Zabini? You haven’t said anything on Longbottom, you in or whot?” Lyra’s eyes widened just slightly. Twenty galleons was a lot of money*, certainly way more than a handful of eleven year olds should be gambling with.

“I’ll pass on this one,” Blaise replied. “I’m not familiar with Longbottom.” He suddenly looked over at Lyra, “What about you Black? Do you want to bet on anyone?”

Lyra pursed her lips, “Well… I did just move here a few months ago, and I’ve been acquainted with the wizarding world for much less time than that but…” She smirked, money signs practically flashing in her pupils, “I’ll play. I’m with Nott on this one. Longbottom is a Gryffindor.”

Pansy’s mouth fell open, “B-but you don’t even know Longbottom, much less anyone else here.”

Lyra shrugged, “Call it an intuition. Actually, on that note I’d like to place a few more bets as well. Just list some names and I’ll go by gut feeling.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her as if to ask what she was playing at. Lyra just gave him a knowing grin. Number one rule of cheating suckers out of money (especially filthy rich fuckers like these guys): Be the most informed person in the room. Luckily for her, she’s already seen the sorting once before (scratch that,  _ many times  _ before).

“Alright…” Pansy said slowly. “I guess we’ll do the Patil twins next. I’m betting on both of them going into Ravenclaw. Twins after all.”

Daphne nodded, “There is a trend of twins going into the same house. I’ll bet on it.”

“I don’t know…” Theodore said, “Doesn’t Parvati dislike studying? And since they’re twins shouldn’t they be really loyal to one another. I think they’ll go to Hufflepuff.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Don’t be daft Nott. Just because they’re twins doesn’t make them loyal. Look at the Weasley twins, both of them are loyal to no one and both ended up in Gryffindor.”

“Well  _ yeah, _ they’re Weasley’s afterall. I don’t know if there’s been a single Weasley that hasn’t ended up a lion in history,” Theodore explained.

“I’ll bet with Nott on this one,” Blaise said. “I think they’re Hufflepuffs.”

Pansy sighed in annoyance, “Fine. Whatever, I’ll put you both down for that.” She begrudgingly turned to Lyra, “And you Black?”

“You said they’re names are what?” Lyra asked, “Parvati and…”

“Padma,” Daphne answered.

“Okay…” Lyra drawled, pretending to give it a good thought. If memory served correct Parvati was the Gryffindor and Padma was the Ravenclaw. She answered as such.

Everyone in the compartment widened their eyes.

“What? You’re going to put them in separate houses?” Pansy exclaimed incredulously. “That’s- that…!”

Daphne grimaced, “Pansy has a point Black. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Sure as anything.”

The rest of the children exchanged dubious looks but didn’t say anything more on the matter. Lyra just sat back in her seat with a little smile on her face.

What? She wasn’t above manipulating spoiled little rich kids for extra cash. Besides, she needed the startup cash anyways for her future businesses. And since they were betting on the Patil twins together that means she’ll get all the betting money. Forty galleons (twenty for each Patil sister) times four of them means she’ll have a hundred sixty galleons*. Not enough for a startout business, but plenty to work with while she worked out of Hogwarts.

They continued to place bets for the next half hour, Lyra drawing from her pre-rebirth memories as an advantage and throwing in the occasional wrong answer just for appearance sake. No need for unnecessary questions about her uncanny prediction abilities. Out of all the children Pansy seemed the most informed about their yearmates while Blaise the least informed (which made sense since he apparently spent half of his time out of the country).

And then someone else showed up at the compartment.

Everyone looked up when the doors opened.

Draco Malfoy smirked down at all of them, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle looming silently behind the silver blonde. “Hello everyone,” Malfoy greeted. “Good to see you all again.” His silver eyes scanned the crowd and paused on Lyra. The smirk was suddenly wiped off his face and replaced by a look of surprise.

“Lyra Black,” Malfoy breathed out in shock.

Lyra dipped her head slowly, “Hello.”

Suddenly he was grinning.

Malfoy stepped into the compartment and stood right in front of her smiling down with way too many rays of sunshine nearly blinding Lyra, “Cousin Black. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy and my mother Lady Narcissa Malfoy was a Black. I’m your cousin.”

Lyra fought back a groan. Great, she had wondered what sort of unforeseen consequences would come to bite her in the ass about her surname misunderstanding. What was it about this blonde twat standing before her that just rubbed her the wrong way? Thank god she wasn’t actually related to him. Still, Malfoy was a powerful enough family name that she wasn’t going to risk making an enemy out of them. Besides, as annoying the blonde was she could still milk this opportunity.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Malfoy-”

“Please, call me Draco,” he said cutting her off. “We are family after all.”

Lyra paused and just stared at him deadpanned for several moments. She had no idea what it was but this kid just exuded this aura that just  _ grinded on her fucking nerves _ . Excuse the language. It went beyond the pompousness and arrogance of the other children in the compartment.

“Malfoy,” she addressed, completely ignoring what he said. “I’m pretty sure I’m not related to you.”

_ Damn.  _ That definitely wasn’t what she meant to say. It just sorta came out by itself. Well too late to regret it now. 

To her surprise though Malfoy seemed to just ignore her denial of their relationship, instead just rolling his eyes in amusement. This was also not the reaction Lyra expected from what she remembered as a volatile young boy.

“I understand your confusion Cousin Lyra,” he said. Her eye twitched, when did she give him permission to call her by her first name? “It must be so jarring to suddenly come to a new country, find out that you’re a witch,  _ and  _ find out you are of noble blood.” Yeah, none of those things were the most jarring thing to happen to her. “But I promise on my honor as a Malfoy I’ll help you adapt to our world and help you recover from living a dreadful muggle life.” He said it so valiantly.

Lyra’s eyebrows rose to her hairline and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be thoroughly insulted. She decided on the latter.

“I must decline” she said fridgedly and her glare just as cold. “I hope you know that both of my parents are muggles.”

“I know. It’s must’ve been such a horrible experience,” he said with a note of sad regret, as if she were a particularly sad case, completely missing her meaning.

“No.” She snapped, “It was not a  _ horrible experience  _ and I’ll not sit here while you insult my mother and father. Actually,” Lyra swiftly stood, so fast that Draco had to take a hasty step back lest he be hit. “I think I’ll find another compartment now. Good day and I’ll see you all at the sorting ceremony.”

She grabbed her bags and pushed her way past the hulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle and stormed down the train.

The entire compartment watched her walk off with silent shock.

“What…” Malfoy said at least breaking the silence. “Did I say something wrong?”

Blaise just groaned.

~*~

The train came to a slow stop right as Lyra was slipping on her outer robes. She glanced out the window of her lone compartment and marveled at the sight of a giant castle in the distance. A feeling of excitement buzzed through her as well as a feeling of  _ this is freaking real _ . This was  _ the dream  _ of every kid in her generation, to be able to finally go to Hogwarts. And while she had outgrown that fantasy as she got older it was alway there, even just a little.

She thought she might’ve caught sight of red hair and what must’ve been Harry Potter as she traversed the crowd towards Hagrid’s booming voice, but they disappeared beneath a sea of children. 

Lyra finally did find Hermione after the first years were segregated from the rest of the crowd. The bushy haired muggleborn lighting up upon seeing her and excitedly came up to greet her. It was at this point that Lyra was introduced to Neville Longbottom and she thought Daphne’s description was pretty accurate. The shy boy really did seem scared of his own shadow. Of course, Lyra knew better that as this little thing grew he would eventually become a force to be reckoned with, once he outgrew his shell (and attractive as hell, though that probably wasn’t an appropriate line of thought given his current age).

The three of them, Lyra, Hermione, and Neville, shared a boat together when they crossed the great lake. The glowing beckon of Hogwarts rising up above them. It was a breathtaking sight.

And then they were in the entrance hall with Minerva McGonagall giving them a speech. It all passed with a blur of nostalgia and excitement. And finally all the first years were left alone.

“I’m so nervous,” Hermione confided beneath her breath. “What if I don’t get sorted?”

“M-me too,” Neville stuttered. “B-b-but I don’t think it’s possible not to get sorted. I just hope I’m in Gryffindor like Gran wanted, but if I’m being honest I’ll probably end up being a Puff…” Lyra blinked at this.

“That’s not true Neville,” she said. “While there’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Hufflepuff and your Gran shouldn’t put so much pressure on you anyways, I can already tell you’re a pretty brave dude.”

“Dude…?” Hermione echoed in confusion while Neville looked down at himself self consciously.

“I think you’re wrong about that Lyra,” Neville murmured.

“Well I think I’m right,” she answered confidently, and not just because she had money riding on this sorting… Well maybe a little. “Besides, if you end up in Gryffindor we can overcome centuries house prejudices.”

He looked at her in confusion, “What do you mean?” Meanwhile Hermione made a noise of surprise.

“So you really think you’ll end up in Slytherin then?” The girl asked. “I thought you weren’t sure between there and Ravenclaw. I…” Hermione’s voice trailed off, “It would be nice if we could be in the same house…” She sounded dejected.

“I’ve given it some thought,” Lyra replied. “And I’m positive now that I’ll end up in Slytherin,” she was an ambitious woman after all, well read sure, but knowledge was just a means to an end for her success, “and from what I’m hearing you think you’ll end up an Eagle?”

Hermione nodded hesitantly, “Well I mean, I only thought about what you told me and it made so much sense, but now I’m not sure…”

“Well don’t change your mind on my behalf,” Lyra said. “And don’t change it on Neville’s either. If you go to a house just for the sake of friends you’ll likely end of miserable. Look Hermione, I’ve only known you for like a month and even  _ I  _ know the house of Knowledge was practically made for you. You’ll love it there and it’ll fuel your drive for competition.”

Hermione blushed.

“A-alright,” the girl replied shakily. “But only if they want to sort me there.”

“I’m sure they will.”

And suddenly they were called to enter the Great Hall. Once again Lyra was utterly blown away by the amazing sights of towering ceiling and charmed floating candles. There were awe of amazement from the other firsties around her, from both pureblood, halfblood, and muggleborn alike. After a few speeches the hat shouted it’s first name:

“HANNAH ABBOTT!”

And the sorting was on its way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> What. The. Fuck. I don’t even know how this ended up as long as it did. THIS WAS NOT IN THE PLAN. I just wanted to get to Hogwarts in the first chapter, meet a few canon characters, establish her name misunderstanding, and do a little world building and I knew this chapter would be a little lengthy.  
> Just. Not. This. Shit.  
> I don’t even know what to say. I’m surprised you’ve even reached this far down to this author’s note (unless you’ve just skipped all the way down here, if so why are you even reading this note in the first place? You’re gonna spoil yourself lmao)  
> Alright so. I’m sure there are some questions. Like why the fuck I wrote a 16.5k first chapter for a story that was promising huge muggleborn/halfblood/squib world building but ended up only touching upon pureblood shit. Well my answer to that is… Plot setup?  
> Yes. This story will have plot even though I’m hoping for it to be primarily world building (I have a little journal filled to the brim with pages on fake-but-plausible lore for the HP world). We won’t always stay in Hogwarts, or England for that matter, and we’ll move around the world eventually while canon events take a backseat for a while (we won’t completely be abandoning them though). I’m very excited to get into some world building for the United States as well as Hawaiian wizarding customs and traditions and so much more. I’ll be heavily linking the muggle world to the wizarding world so don’t fret we’ll get there eventually.  
> But for now we’re still in setup mode. We’ve got to meet characters, establish canon events, and build relationships (friendship, family, and business relationships alike).  
> Now what people really want to know: Romance  
> Lyra will have a love interest. Just not anytime soon. And not any character you know. Remember that she’s a grown woman who has spent her entire life reading the stories of these characters as children. And now she’s met them as children. She doesn't want to be cradle robbing. Besides, she’s too invested in making money anyways. Just know that it’ll happen. But not for a long long time. I’ll also be forming some other ships. Some canon, others very much not.  
> So yeah. That’s that. Thanks for putting up this this monstrous first chapter. Fingers crossed I’ll be able to include more humor in the next one. Till next time.  
> -The Firecrest  
> *I’m using the $24 dollar to a galleon exchange rate (roughly £17 pounds)  
> *20 galleons would be $480 dollars or £340 pounds  
> *160 galleons would be $3,840 dollars or £2720 pounds  
> *Lyra’s wand cost her $168 dollars or £117 pounds


End file.
